THE ELDER SCROLLS : SKYRIM : CALL OF THE DRAGONBORN
by thecacklingcrow
Summary: Skyrim is in the grips of a bloody war between the Old and the New Empire when a Dragon rises from the grave and attacks the town of Helgen. Sowilu Futhark, a young woman at odds with her path in life, is forced to decide how she will survive a world cast in chaos and filled with danger. When she absorbs the soul of a fallen Dragon, Sowilu's life drastically changes.
1. Chapter 1 : Failure

**CHAPTER ONE**

**FAILURE**

**.**

A mist hung heavy over the frost covered marsh and the sky was black and hidden behind ominous clouds. There is a special kind of silence during a night like this one: A damp, curious and creeping silence that suggested a shadow following you through the dark; thin fingers stretched out to brush your neck. The mist could make one imagine mysterious figures in the swirling white just beyond the corner of the eye, and perhaps convince some to turn back toward home where there was a warm fire and loved ones waiting to embrace them. But this misty marsh was a place far, far away from a welcoming hearth.

This was the place that Sowilu Futhark found herself trudging through, boots sticky and thick with mud. She huffed, moist breath becoming steam as it mingled with the cold air and the mist parted with her presence. The Nord girl came to a pause just then and squinted through the unrelenting fog. Her ever so slightly pointed ears strained and then they heard the same suction sound that her own boots made as she traveled in the marsh. She whistled a short, precise note.

A whisper of a moment passed before a whistle pierced the silence in return to her own. She let out a sigh of relief and watched shadows approach her until they became the physical bodies of several armor clad men. The leader removed his silver helmet, blonde locks of hair fell toward his strong chin where a scruff of a beard was growing. His expression was stern and intimidating. His armor was hidden beneath a heavy brown fur coat that was most likely claimed from a cave bear.

"I trust you have what I asked for?" he spoke in a deep voice and a Eastern Nordic accent, eyes cast in shadow yet clearly locked on Sowilu's.

Sowilu blinked hazel orbs at the man, temporarily frozen where she stood. Despite having been in his presence several times before, the young woman could not help but become awestruck by his powerful aura.

Sowilu cleared her throat, hands fumbling through her leather pack that hung about her waist as she replied: "Yes, sir. It's just here..." Sowilu pulled a rolled parchment from her satchel and offered it to the man.

"Here it is, Ulfric, as you requested."

Ulfric Stormcloak took the roll of parchment from Sowilu and gently unrolled it. He was not just any man, but the leader of the Rebellion against the Empire of Skyrim. He was the Jarl of Windhelm and believed to be the true High King by his loyal followers who stood beside him in blue and gold armor. Sowilu was one of these people, and she felt great honor in having been chosen to bring battle plans through Bonechill Passage to aid the invasion of Helgen and reclaim yet another home of the true brothers and sisters of Skyrim.

"Well done, girl." he said simply as his eyes scanned the curled paper, "We should be able to make our positions in two days if we move now. I can give you my fastest horse to bring a message of preparation to our Pinewatch Camp."

It took Sowilu a moment to register that he was addressing her yet again.

"Me?" she replied in a voice that was slightly higher than she intended.

Ulfric raised an eyebrow and said, "Yes. You. Don't just stand there with your mouth open, girl. You have proven to be a swift messenger, so let us continue the good work!"

Sowilu nodded obediently as some of the other Stormcloaks sniggered, and she shot them a mean look through the dark. Ulfric waved his hand in the air to round up the horses that had been left in hiding at the edge of the marsh. Sowilu watched the group as they parted the mist with their warm bodies, retuning to the temporary camp there in Greywater, and she marveled in the idea of aiding Ulfric and his closest warriors in the great war that was brewing ahead of them. Could she be remembered as someone who greatly benefited this battle?

Her fantasy was interrupted by a swift, familiar _whoosh_ that nearly grazed her neck. She furrowed her brows and turned around in the direction the noise had ended with a textured thump to see a stick stuck in the mud where her footprint had been left not long ago. Her mind was slow to process what she was looking at, but she felt vaguely somewhere in her chest a sensation of fear.

No. It was the birth of adrenaline, and it bloomed within her like a flower of fire and fear.

"IMPERIAL ARCHERS!" boomed a voice from somewhere in the mist.

Sowilu dropped to her knees and yanked her silver waraxe from the loop on her belt. She heard shouting ahead, but she was immobilized by fear. Her heart raced and she looked around wildly for familiar shadows. She heard Ulfric's commanding voice giving orders, but nothing made sense to her in that moment. Arrows whipped through the fog and left tiny holes, as if piercing through cobwebs, and stuck sharply in the wet ground around her.

An explosion of sound blasted ahead followed by a collective scream of terror, and Sowilu saw the small puddles of water welled in footprints ripple in the aftershock. There was a strange vibration that tingled within her and she was overcome by an intense burst of bravery.

Sowilu launched from her crouched position and charged forward blindly. Sooner than she had expected, she was in the middle of clashing metal and fallen bodies. A sword sliced through the fog and she deflected it with her waraxe. The Imperial soldier yelled and jabbed at her torso, but she was quicker than he and her axe hacked easily through flesh and bone. The soldier's sword made a _thud_ as it hit the ground, hand still gripping the hilt. The Imperial shrieked in pain and attempted to stop the blood, but Sowilu quickly finished him.

More soldiers rushed around her, some becoming distracted by her fellow Stormcloaks. Another sword attempted to strike near her thigh, but she kicked at the elbow and broke the arm that held it. She took down two other men faster than she thought herself capable. Her body was warm now and her swings coming more efficiently, but her fighting would not last long.

Another blast of sound, which Sowilu then recognized as Ulfric's Thu'um, accidentally caught her off guard from behind and sent her forward like an immense gale of wind. She rolled like a rag doll in the muck, her waraxe flying from her hand and disappearing somewhere in the darkness. Mud found its way into her leather armor and mouth and temporarily blinded her upon landing. She scrambled to find her footing, but slipped and tumbled into a shallow bog.

Sowilu grasped at the slippery bank and crawled out sputtering and rubbing mud and water from her eyes. Her body ached and she choked on the stench of the wetland. Just as she finally blinked up ahead of her, an arrow stabbed directly through her forearm. The poor girl screamed and grabbed the arrow instinctively, but was afraid to yank it out of her flesh. She had never felt a pain such as she had now. The world blurred around her, and she vomited into the bog.

Then she was distant from her body, only the shouts of her brothers in arms echoing through the pitch as they were overcome by the Imperials.

.

* * *

.

It was cold that day, she remembered. It had been drizzling, threatening snow, and she had just come up from mining deep in Fenn's GulchCave, a property that the Futhark family had inherited from her Breton uncle Fenn, which he had inherited from his father and his father before him. The veins were rich in silver and iron and there had even been an amethyst cluster discovered there. The Futhark's had been fortunate to have the mine, and they were envied by other mining families in their home village of Karthwasten.

Sowilu felt a chill run down her spine as a chilly gust of wind bellowed by and howled down the cave. The combination of warm, sweaty flesh and cold, rainy wind did not sit well with her at all. She went to the storage box where she stuffed her cloak and spun it over her shoulders, deep green fabric cascading down to her thighs. She rested under the rock that jutted out from the mountain at the mouth of the mine and watched the rain drizzle down and flurry into flecks of snow.

Soon, down the hard and worn path, there came the clopping of hooves approaching. Sowilu rose from her spot on the storage box where she had decided to sit and stepped out into the snowfall to see who was riding up the road. There was a hooded figure wearing the same color green she was, and she recognized the horse as Flitch.

"Uncle Glenn!" she shouted and waved. He waved back.

Flitch snorted and shook his tawny brown mane back and forth when he was reigned to a stop before Sowilu. She noticed that there were some pelts secured to the rear of the horse and rabbits hung with the packs full of camping gear and supplies. It appeared he had a bountiful hunt, but his face suggested otherwise.

"Was the trip well, Uncle?" she asked curiously, her head tilting to the side.

Glenn removed his hood, pointed ears peeking past dirty blonde hair and his face rough and flecked with a few tiny scars along his jawbone and neck. He had experienced more than a small number of close calls in his years of hunting in the wilds of The Reach.

Glenn was the youngest of four brothers of the Breton family that had been joined in marriage years ago. The clan carried the name Bowstringer, and it was his little sister Tarra, Sowilu's mother, that had married into the Futhark family.

"It was fair." he confirmed.

"That's good." she replied.

Something was strange. Glenn was her favorite of the four Bowstringer Brothers. He was always energetic and humorous, eager to share stories and show off his haul. It was he who had been teaching her how to use a bow and arrow, teasing her for relying too much on her axe and fire magic. _'Are you going to chop down the forest and burn it? That's not how you hunt!'_ he had joked with her after she had attempted to catch a goat with a blast of flame, charring the hide and rendering it useless. _'Hunting is about quite and patience. The bow will teach you patience. The quite part might be impossible for you to learn with your lead feet, however'_.

"Is everything okay?" she pried.

Glenn let out a sigh and reached into his cloak, pulling out something small and silver. He tossed it at her and she caught it easily. The object was cold, and she turned it over in her hand. Her face suddenly felt very pale. It was her badge of loyalty that she received when she signed up for the Stormcloak Rebellion. She hadn't even noticed it was missing.

"It's yours, isn't it?" he asked, "I found it in your dresser when you asked me to find that book you were reading. Remember? It was a week ago before I left for this hunt."

Sowilu stared at the badge in silence, her finger tracing the bear emblem on the front. She had told no one that she joined the rebellion against the Empire. She was afraid of what her family might think or what side they were on.

"I joined almost a month ago." she confided, "But I haven't been summoned for anything yet. I was still... I was still considering my options. Considering how I could help. I want to see Ulfric reclaim Skyrim for the Nords, and for my people to be free of the Aldmeri Dominion. They were selfish to think they could buy out our land from our people! Don't you agree, Uncle?"

Glenn was very quite, his green eyes watching her as she explained the badge to him. When she had finished, he threw his leg over Flitch and dismounted. Sowilu stepped back as her uncle approached, uncertain of his feelings on the matter. He stood over her, 6'2" to her 5'9", and spoke in a voice that barely masked anger.

"When I found this, I first felt disappointment. I decided to think about it on my hunt before I told your father and mother of my discovery. I wanted to speak with you to really understand why you chose to betray the Empire for some pathetic criminals stuck in the old ways of Skyrim and the worship of a tired God.

I had so greatly hoped that this was a phase. A moment of utter childish stupidity that had beckoned you to do something so foolish and reckless. But to hear you now, rambling like an ignorant mud crab about the Rebellion doing any good for Skyrim... I am ashamed!"

Sowilu felt the hot sting of tears attempting to break the dam she was creating to keep herself from showing any sign of defeat. She clenched her fists, hurt by her Uncle's words and angry about his hate speech toward the true people and culture of the Nords.

"No! It is you who are ignorant to the crimes the Dominion has committed against the Empire! Do you seriously think that what they are doing is right? They allow the Thalmor to roam around and slaughter anyone they find worshipping Talos, and any other Nord who so much as glances at them funny! Do you think that fair and just, Uncle? Do you like watching our people suffer under Altmer control?!"

A loud clap echoed through the trees.

Sowilu was in a heap on the fresh snow that covered the ground like a thin white lace; her cheek burning and her eyes watering. Glenn was looking down at her while shaking out the hand that has just given her a heavy smack, a twisted expression on his darkened face. Sowilu sucked in a cold breath, shuddered, and choked as hot tears began to stream from her eyes. She sobbed, holding a palm against her tender skin, and looked up at her uncle in bitter bewilderment.

"Listen." he growled, his eyes wild with mixed emotion, "You are my family. But not by blood. You do not speak for MY people. The White-Gold Concordat was the best thing that happened to this dying Empire. If it weren't for that, the Aldmeri Dominion would have easily destroyed Skyrim, and then what? Are you really going to fight alongside men who are too stubborn to leave their decrepit, ancient ways behind? Your argument is weak, child."

Glenn mounted Flitch and the horse whinnied and stomped his hoof.

"Your choice is your own, Sowilu, but know that I will not support your choice. I highly doubt the rest of the family will either. Markarth is a city for the Imperial Legion. You will be cast out from everything you have and know. Is that what you want?" he asked.

Sowilu wiped her tears gently from her face with the sleeve of her tunic and glared at Uncle Glenn. A fierce fire burned in her expression and he blinked at her, unsettled. She said nothing. She didn't need too.

The youngest Bowstring Brother shook his head and whispered, "So be it.", and turned Flitch away from his niece, kicked with his heels and galloped off toward Karthwasten. Toward a family that would turn their backs on her.

She rose slowly to her feet, eyes still leaking from the pain and her cheek fat from swelling. Her head turned about until her eyes caught something at the side of the rode. She knelt down and picked up the Stormcloak badge that had been knocked from her hand in the assault.

Sowilu traced her thumb over the Windhelm Bear, the sigil of Ulfric Stormcloak. Quietly, she tucked it into her pocket and started walking down the snowy road, the white becoming thicker and the snow collection on her head and shoulders. She pulled up the dark green hood of her cloak.

If she followed the Karth River North, she could make it to the Reach Stormcloak Camp by tomorrow morning.

So she walked.

.

* * *

.

There was a grinding and clopping sound somewhere in the blackness: It was rhythmic and familiar and seemed to come right from where she was.

Where was she?

Sowilu's eyes fluttered open. She was sitting on something made of wood, and she felt herself rocking back and forth in time with that clopping sound. Sowilu scrunched up her face and sat up straight. She took a deep breath and all the scents surrounding her came at once: Pine, sweat, horse fur, mud...

Sowilu blinked against the bright as everything that had happened came rushing back. The pain in her right forearm came back too, and she felt sick. A voice spoke from across where she was sitting on what she understood now to be a wooden cart led by a horse and rider.

"Looks like you're finally awake."

Sowilu moaned softly. As her vision cleared, the woods washed in thick white fog surrounded her, like solemn figures watching from the safety of a mystical shroud. She looked down at her arm and saw that it was crudely bandaged and stained with darkly dried blood. Her fingers would not move, and her wrists were bound tightly together with dirty rope.

"They left the arrow in there." came that voice again, his Nordic accent reminded her of a friend she once had that hailed from the South.

Sowilu muttered something she assumed was a _'what?'_ but it merely escaped as a whimper. She looked desperately at the man for help, but saw he was just as tied up as she.

"They broke off the parts that were sticking out of you." he verified, "but they only did so they could wrap you up and keep you from bleeding to death before they could kill you themselves."

He was wearing the blues and browns of a Stormcloak soldier. His hair was long and golden with a braid dangling next to his left cheek. He looked to be not more than 5 years her senior, but his current grim expression made it difficult to tell. She also noted that he looked far cleaner than she felt and probably looked after taking a tumble in the muck.

She cleared her throat as asked, "Kill me?"

"Kill _us_." he corrected and nodded up at the horse rider pulling the cart, "We have been captured by the Imperials, girl. It looks like you were fighting alongside Ulfric Stormcloak before they captured him. I saw them load you and whoever was left from the struggle on these carts and there weren't many."

Sowilu felt very, very sick. She looked up at the man in bright red and gold steering the cart and back at the man across from her. There was another man next to him who had been listening and, she just noticed, was sobbing and murmuring to himself. To her right was someone much larger than the other two. His eyes and mouth had been wrapped in black cloth and he wore a coat that made him appear to be a captured cave bear.

"By the Gods..." Sowilu murmured, "Ulfric?"

"That's right" said the man with the braid in his gold hair, "And we will all join him proudly in Sovngarde. It's been an honor serving you, Ulfric. And an honor to die beside you my fellow sister."

He looked at Sowilu, his blue eyes shining strangely... like those of a man who had accepted death long ago. He was a true Stormcloak.

Sowilu looked at her feet, unable to maintain eye contact. Who was she to feel in any way worthy of Sovngarde? She felt like a failure sitting in that cart next to her leader. And she was a coward who was afraid to die.

The cart rumbled and rocked in line with seven others filled with Stormcloak soldiers. Most of the men and women looked as if they had been captured without a fight, such as the man across from her, while the others were caked in mud and blood much like herself.

"We were captured at Pinewatch." spoke the man once more. Sowilu kept her head down and listened. "They killed our night watch swiftly and silently like the wind through the mist... they have very capable archers, I'll give them that. We were anticipating orders from Ulfric to storm Helgen, but they found us before then."

Sowilu nodded, and he continued:

"Hardly a day later they were dragging you on board. I heard that the Imperials followed one of our messengers back through Bonechill Passage. Led them right to Ulfric while he was waiting for the plans. What a foolish mistake that messenger made... no matter now, I suppose."

Sowilu said nothing. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It was her fault. It was all her fault. She did everything in her power to prevent herself from vomiting again.

Not much later, the horses slowed and a great wall made of pine trees, their tops carved to a deadly point, appeared ahead of them. Some people were shouting orders to open the gates so that the prisoners could be taken to their deaths, and other voices were those of curious villagers asking questions as to why.

"These Stormcloaks had planned to seize Helgen." muttered the horse rider steering Sowilu's cart. Sowilu looked over her shoulder to see a young boy walking alongside them with inquisitive brown eyes set on the Imperial. "Oh..." said the boy, his gaze meeting Sowilu's. She quickly turned around and closed her eyes, wishing she had been left in that marsh. She could hear the boy's mother hissing at him to stay away from the criminals.

Sowilu did not open her eyes again until the carts had stopped and she was being shouted at by guards to get up and get out.


	2. Chapter 2 : Escape

**CHAPTER TWO**

**ESCAPE**

**.**

It was important to be well prepared for travel. The wilds of the world were dangerous, unpredictable and unforgiving. The weather could betray you at any given time. Untamed beasts prowled along the road and waited for the opportunity to make you their dinner. Worst of all were the other men traveling just as you were, frightened and on their guard... or worse. Thieves and outlandish folk made the deadliest risk during a journey to anywhere.

Skyrim was no different in its danger and Sowilu was entirely unprepared.

She had been hiking for hours and the sun had long faded into the horizon; taking all of the warm light with it. It was a full moon at least: The snow reflected the chilling, milky light and radiated an eerie glow. Above her shimmered green and blue and purple fractals of light that only the darkest skies and coldest nights could manifest. The Nords called these lights Siren Glow for their hypnotic quality. They were powerful enough with beauty that a person could lose sight of all else for a long time.

The downside was the intense cold. Also, the risk of being attacked by monsters or Forsworn ranked pretty high on the downside list. This was at the fault of being unprepared, as mentioned earlier. Sowilu felt a never ending rush of gooseflesh and shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her neck. It did not do much good.

Sowilu cursed herself and her lack of bravery. She had essentially run away from home to avoid facing her family and standing up for what she believed in. Perhaps her father felt the same as she and would have defended her... but then what? Would this brewing war really tear apart everything she had known and loved? Her heart ached at the thought of it all, and she felt as though she had already been mourning the loss.

The frozen road beneath her feet crunched with each step. The glow of the snow cast strange shadows upon the rocks and trees, and mountains seemed to throb with a bluish light. A whisper of snowfall sprinkled about and nearly blended with the stars above. Sowilu wondered how far she had left to go, and worried if she would make it alive and intact.

She came then to a fork in the road, one leading North-West and the other to the East. Sowilu remembered that she had to cross the KarthRiver as the Reach Stormcloak Camp sat upon the Eastern bank, so she followed the proper path. It was a mile later that she came to a great stone bridge with the icy waters crashing loudly below.

The bridge was in poor repair, with entire sections of safety wall missing and bits of cobbles chipped up and scattered about like gravel. It was clear to see the stone had been well worn from years of rain and snow, and the sides were stained green by grime from the river. The moon reflected upon the dark waters, the round shape disturbed by swirling currents that created a wobbling ripple at the edges of the great white sphere. Sowilu began to cross the bridge.

Far up ahead on the other side, a great tower loomed and blocked the moon as she drew nearer. The ominous darkness made her shiver and pull her hood forward as far as it would go. The tower and the bridge were brothers, built as one to become a mighty fort that had been called Broken Tower Redoubt. The stone was porous and ill kept, abandoned long ago for better towers in more important places.

She reached the East bank and turned North on the road. She was getting close to the camp now and could make out a sliver of campfire smoke in the distance. Her spirits lifted too soon, however. In an instant there were arrows zipping around her, missing by inches. She looked up and saw bandit archers in the tower windows, bows aimed at her and someone shouting commands for attack. Sowilu broke into a run.

The arrows continued to rain down, chasing her heels and coming far too close. There was more yelling and it was coming closer. She dared to look back: Three massive men in rough spun tunics and crude armor were catching up to her, weapons drawn. Sowilu grasped at her belt for her waraxe despite being already well aware that she did not have it, panic causing her breath to shake.

Sowilu curled her fingers inward and a spark crackled from her right palm. She would prefer to run since her magic was not strong enough to truly keep enemies at bay for long, but she was not fast enough to make it without slowing them down somehow. When the moment felt right, she made a sharp left toward the river. The men followed. At the bank of the rushing waters she turned to face them. They slowed and held their weapons in attacking positions.

They had dark hair and eyes, dirty faces and skin that had seen many skirmishes. It was hard to tell them apart entirely, but Sowilu wasn't really trying to distinguish bandits who wanted to murder her. From this perspective they were just bandits who wanted to murder her. End of story.

"What are you doing way out here, eh? On a journey alone in the dead of night... Are you stupid or something?" growled one of the men. He was holding a dented, rusted battleaxe. Sowilu did not respond.

"Gots any valuables on ye, girly?" the bandit with a short sword asked with a grin.

"Like it matters." chimed the third man with a dagger in each hand, "We'll kill her and find out either way."

The bandit with the daggers yelled and rushed Sowilu, who, unknown to them, had prepared for this moment. At the last second, when the bandit raised his arm to stab, Sowilu ducked, elbowed him deep in the ribs, and tripped him into the water. The bandit with the short sword was quickly upon her, and she narrowly dodged a swipe from his blade. She held the spark in her curled fingers and snapped her wrist upward as a blast of fire erupted from her palm.

The sword bandit screamed as flames wrapped around his torso like a deadly blanket. His tunic caught fire and he jumped into the river. The previous bandit to fall in the river had begun to climb back on shore. He reached up and grabbed Sowilu by the ankle. She gasped and turned toward him, curling her fingers and snapping a stream of electricity from her palm. The bandit convulsed, the shock amplified by the icy water. Sowilu felt the electric sting creep up her leg, and she kicked hard to be released from the bandit's grip.

She stumbled to the side and tumbled upon the bank, her leg numb and twitching. Then she was struck in the back with a thick boot attached to a very strong leg. She arched forward and groaned in pain, looking back at her attacker: the bandit with the battleaxe.

"It's over, spell-caster!" he barked, swinging the rusty axe over his head with a _swoosh_ and bringing it down to hack her flesh. With every ounce of will she had, Sowilu rolled away just in time and crashed into the river. She was sent head over heel by the force of the nearly frozen water, her limbs numb from the burning cold. She let herself become swept away, figuring she had a better chance of surviving the KarthRiver in the dead of Winter than holding her own against a battleaxe.

She felt her cloak yank away as it caught on something in the murky depth, her body twisting further down the river; helpless, frail and small. It felt as if she had been under the surface for hours and her lungs ached for air. Then, without warning, her world became nothing more than blackness.

...

"Are you alive?" came the voice of a female kneeling over her. Sowilu could feel warmth and smell burning wood, which enticed her to force open her hazel eyes and face the figure above. There was a helmed solider in blue and bronze gently smacking Sowilu on the cheek to bring about consciousness, which hurt more than the solider probably intended. Sowilu hissed in pain and drew her pale hand to cup her bruised cheek: the memory of her Uncle's hand and reminder of his disappointment.

"Who are you?" asked the Stormcloak with a calm but serious voice.

Sowilu took in a sharp breath and muttered, "So-sowilu Futhark. I... I joined the Rebellion several weeks ago... I've come to aid Jarl Ulfric's forces."

The helmed woman chuckled and removed her helmet. Her skin was tan and her brown hair hung over her shoulder in a thick braid. She waved four other soldiers over to inspect the damage; rough hands poking and prodding and searching for injuries, whispering amongst themselves. A hand touched her shoulder and she groaned. Another frisked her leg and she gasped in pain.

"Looks like she took a shock to the leg." said the soldier at her feet.

"At least it wasn't an arrow." chimed another.

"My brother Erik took an arrow to the knee once." said the one who was inspecting her shoulder.

"We know, we know. Shut up with that story already!" groaned the last.

"All of you please shut up!" snapped the female soldier, glaring at each of them one by one.

Sowilu closed her eyes and sighed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and sleep by the bonfire for a million years- But her muscles cramped and all the attention kept her well aware of that.

"I'm impressed at how durable you are, Futhark." spoke the tan woman at last, "You were pale as death when we found you by the river. Fortunate you washed up right at our campsite."

Sowilu felt hands raising her up to her feet, a solider on each side, holding her steady. She looked around the camp, blue tents cluttered together and two other bonfires burning for warmth. The flames cast a flickering orange glow and long dancing shadows beyond. It had to be greater than chance that she had ended up where she did- And alive. That was a plus.

"I'm Greta, your captain. Just call me Captain. Tomorrow is your lucky day. Jarl Ulfric will be making an appearance. He brings with him a great strategy for our next move."

Greta slid her gloved hand into a pocket on her utility belt and drew forth a silver token. She handed it to Sowilu, who uncurled her arm from one of the supporting shoulders to take the item. She looked down and saw that it was her badge of loyalty to the Stormcloak Rebellion.

"Found this washed up the bank near you." said Greta. "It reflected firelight just the right way so that we spotted it. Seems to be a sign that you've made the right choice. You're precisely where you need to be- On the side of Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Sowilu traced her finger over the bear and echoed, "the right choice...".

In spite of her injuries, Sowilu slept soundly the rest of the night.

.

* * *

.

They huddled together in a half circle facing a great watchtower at the center of Helgen. The village square had been turned into a macabre stage for execution; complete with a big man in black, his face hidden in a hood and an axe in his hand. The executioner had just practiced his precision on the block with a melon, of which half of it lay in the head basket, and the other still wobbled on the cobble at Sowilu's feet where it had rolled.

The Captain of the army who had captured them held a piece of parchment in her hand. She was shorter than the rest of her soldiers, but her voice was strong and the other Imperials responded obediently to her commands. She glanced at the list and spoke:

"By order of the Imperial Army, we herby sentence the men and women before us to death by decapitation for crimes against the Empire. We will summon you one by one, and when your name is called, you will approach the block."

A high-pitched voice cried out, "No! I'm not a Stormcloak! Please! I don't want to die!"

Sowilu and the others turned their heads and saw that it was the man that had been in the cart with Ulfric Stormcloak, sobbing. He wore simple brown clothes and, despite having dark skin, he looked pale as a ghost. The man trembled and yelped when the Captain shouted, "Silence, horse-thief!"

"Please! Let me free! I'm not ready to die!" he yelled out desperately. In a last attempt for freedom, he turned to run away. Several Imperial arrows were drawn and released in his direction, and he sound of flesh being pierced echoed through the courtyard. Thief collapsed in a heap on the cold ground; dead.

"Anyone else want to try and escape?" asked the Captain angrily.

"I'm ready to die with honor in the name of Ulfric Stormcloak!" came a voice from the group.

"Then the first to die will be you!" demanded the Captain as two Imperial soldiers grabbed hold of the man who claimed his pride, dragging him to the block. Sowilu wanted to close her eyes, but they remain glued upon the grizzly scene, unblinking. There was a collective pause of breath as the executioner raised his axe, and when the weapon came down and ended his life, Sowilu felt her neck ache forebodingly. The sickening thud of the Stormcloak's decapitated head rocked the basket.

The execution had become a spectacle now as several townsfolk had gathered around to watch. The Captain looked at the list and read several names to line up. Sowilu noticed that they were all the men covered in blood and dirt- The men she had fought beside before all this.

"Sowilu Futhark!"

Sowilu felt her heart throb in her throat. _I'm first?_ She walked automatically, with no control over her legs, toward the block to be killed. She stood before it, wide eyed and feeling far away from herself- frozen in time. The soldier nearby grew impatient and kicked her down to her knees. She cringed as the warm blood from the man before her smeared against her throat, and saw his dead eyes staring back at her from within the basket.

_'This is it'_, she thought simply.

A terrible sound cracked through the sky; and it bounced off the buildings and vibrated painfully in her ears. Someone screamed and suddenly there were stone bricks falling from above. The executioner had dropped his axe and it clanked when it hit the ground next to Sowilu's head. She looked up and, to her and everyone else's great disbelief, there loomed an enormous black creature latched to the top of the tower. Sowilu scrambled to her feet as quick as she could with her hands bound, more stone raining from the structure and exploding all around as the creature clawed at the walls to stay steady.

"IT'S A DRAGON!"

Sowilu could not believe what she was witnessing. _There is no way on Nirn that I'm looking at a Dragon!_ _Dragons were dead and had been dead a very, very long time! _But this thing was larger than any sky beast she knew; with rigid black scales, frighteningly large wings and a sharp angular face. It had great gnashing fangs and terrible claws that currently crumbled the well built watchtower as though it were made from dirt by a child.

The mighty thing roared again and Sowilu could feel its hot breath billow through the town square, creating a whirlwind of debris and screaming and arrows that had failed to strike. Then, with its head rearing back, the dragon drew inward and unleashed a blinding, scorching blast of flame from deep within its chest.

It was in this moment that Sowilu figured she should stop gawking and start running away. She bolted in some direction that wasn't engulfed in dragon fire and looked for a place to take shelter. At this point, beams and roofs and walls had already started collapsing left and right. Thatch and wooden houses began to catch fire as the dragon took flight and circled Helgen, shooting flames in giant sweeps over the defenseless town. Sowilu had no idea how and if she could escape.

"You! Sister!" came a familiar voice.

Sowilu whipped around and saw her fellow Stormcloak from the cart waving at her to follow. She obeyed and rushed to his side. He grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her into a house that had been blasted from the side by the dragon, but was not complete ash just yet.

"Let me get this for you." he whispered as he took out a dagger and cut the ropes that had been binding her wrists. Sowilu cringed as her arms came free, the arrow still stuck in her right forearm had certainly not let itself become forgotten. Fortunately, the adrenaline was keeping the pain subdued enough to let her focus on getting out of this place.

"How is this happening?!" she asked rather stupidly.

"Call me Ralof" he said, ignoring her question.

"I-I'm Sowilu."

"Sowilu. Then, by the Gods, I promise to get us out of here. Stay close!"

Sowilu followed Ralof's lead, impressed by his remarkable bravery and confidence. Moments earlier, he had been speaking of death as though it were as easy to walk through as a door; and now he was as calm in the presence of a dragon as someone might be with a kitten. She wished secretly within herself that she too could be this way. That is, provided she wasn't as charred as a skeever tail before then.

Ralof took them swiftly through broken walls and under scorched debris while the dragon circled above. The once quiet village had become chaos, and Sowilu tried to keep her focus on the man in front of her. She could hear a baby crying somewhere to her left when they paused behind a low wall, and there was a man groaning in pain to her right. But most of what she heard was inside her: her blood throbbing in her veins and her heart pounding in her chest.

"This way! Run!" Ralof shouted back at her. She leaped up and ran just as the wall they had been hiding behind disappeared under white-hot flame. The intense heat burned against her back, and she cried out as she ran faster to prevent herself from catching fire. Ralof ducked into an untouched house that stood out strangely in a sea of destruction and flame. She collapsed as she crossed the threshold.

Sowilu barely had any time to become familiar with the floor before Ralof yanked her to her feet by the back of her collar and began patting out the threads in her tunic that had started to catch fire. "Are you okay, sister?" he grunted, shaking out his hand after quelling the last bit of ember stuck to her.

Sowilu looked back at him with what she intended to be an expression that said 'I'm fine', but it really said 'I'm going to shit myself'. She had never been very good at faking emotions.

Ralof was kind enough to pretend she meant the former and turned to look out of the window of the abandoned home. "Those Imperials don't stand a chance against that monster." he said, "Those arrows are only helping it find them and kill them. We need to get underground." He looked back at Sowilu and continued, " There is an underground system of tunnels under the village. The guards use them to move about undetected and gain advantages during attack. That's where we need to be if we want to live."

Sowilu nodded in agreement and said, "Lead the way."

.

* * *

.

They stood at the foot of a damp wooden staircase that led deep below the barracks. Sowilu adjusted her belt; an iron battleaxe that she took from the weapons room hung against her left leg and Ralof had taken a sword for himself. There came a rumble from above and bits of stone and sand fell from the ceiling and into Sowilu's dark hair.

"I think this is it." said Ralof, brushing sand out of his own golden locks. "Let's tread with caution. There are sure to be Imperials down here. I don't think any dragon would prevent them from trying to kill us."

They descended carefully into the dark depths beneath the barracks, and for a short time it was too dark to see anything at all. Sowilu kept her left arm stretched out in front, her fingers lightly touching Ralof's back to prevent herself from walking into something. She could hear water dripping from the ceiling and the floor was rough and uneven. As her eyes adjusted, she could see the tunnel widened up at the end where a dim light beckoned them on. Ralof crouched down at the opening, his hand waving at Sowilu to do the same.

"What is it?" Sowilu whispered, peeking around Ralof's shoulder.

"Shadows in the dark... hard to tell what's there and what isn't sometimes." he whispered back, and Sowilu felt a chill.

They crept along the walls, the ceiling expanding high up above and cracked open at the top where just enough sunlight leaked through the jagged rocks to guide the way. Sowilu wondered if they were even under Helgen anymore or if the dragon was still out there. If it was and if she escaped this place, where would that leave her? She had failed her role as Ulfric's messenger and he knew that. Could she face him again if he survived this? And if he didn't survive... what would that mean for the Rebellion? And if there were more dragons...

Her head spun. So lost in thought, she hadn't realized that Ralof had stopped, and she bumped into him with her right arm between them. "Ouch! Oh my Gods, that hurts!" she whimpered, holding her damaged arm. Ralof turned and glared at her, his finger pressed against his lips. She held her breath as tears brimmed her eyes and nodded, her forearm aching badly. It had swollen up since she woke back on the cart and she was certain it was becoming badly infected. Despite rewrapping it in the barracks, the bandages had already begun to bleed through.

"I hear someone up ahead." Ralof told her, "Have your weapon ready. I think we're going to have to fight our way out of here."

As they approached the next opening, the floor turned to a paved landing and the rushing sound of water could be heard echoing through the tunnel. They had come to a stone bridge over a controlled canal where river water was redirected to the wells of Helgen. Despite their best efforts to go on undetected, a pair of Imperial soldiers on the other side of the canal caught sight of them.

"You there! Stop!" yelled a stout Imperial, drawing his waraxe.

"Stormcloaks!" said a taller, thinner Imperial.

Ralof jumped up with sword in the air and charged without the slightest hesitation, which startled Sowilu. His energy must have thrown the Imperials too, because they backed away instead of charging forward. Sowilu drew her waraxe and went to follow, but stopped when she saw another man further back in the shadows of the opposite tunnel.

Ralof overwhelmed the taller Imperial with ease and kicked him into the canal, but the stout man was on him, and Sowilu tore her eyes from whoever was watching from the darkness. Ralof had been hit in the back with the hilt of the waraxe and the stout Imperial was preparing for a deadly blow by the time Sowilu intervened. With a metallic _clank!_, she caught the momentum of the weapon with her own and swung sharply outward, releasing the Imperial's grip and sending his weapon clattering across the bridge.

The stout man moved quicker than Sowilu anticipated and he kicked a leg out from under her. She fell and rolled to avoid being stomped on, but Ralof had recovered and pierced the Imperial through his side. The stout man met the same fate as the previous and toppled into the canal. Realizing she was safe, Sowilu glanced back in the direction of the tunnel where the man was observing, but he was gone.

"Thanks for that." said Ralof as he helped Sowilu to her feet, "I think we're almost there. Let's keep going."

The two fugitives moved quickly through the next passage which had started to climb back toward the surface. The walls had been lined with torches on this side of the underground maze, and their light cast Sowilu and Ralof's shadows high and narrow against the grey stone. It felt like forever before they found the end of it all- and the crude ladder that lead upward to freedom. Ralof went first, opening the small door by pushing upward. Sunlight flooded the tunnel and nearly blinded Sowilu as Ralof climbed out. He turned and reached down to help pull her up, since her right arm remained useless.

Once out in the open, Sowilu rolled onto her back and just lay where she was upon the ground with her eyes closed. She listened to the skies and heard no dragon and no screaming and no crackling flames; just the sounds of nature, seemingly undisturbed by all the trauma that she had witnessed: From having been sent to die by decapitation, to nearly being burned alive by a real dragon and now feeling the pain in her arm overtake all other sensation as adrenaline faded- And yet the world around her remained unmoved.

"Sowilu." said Ralof standing over her and blocking the sun, "We made it alive..."

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Helgen is fallen and there is a dragon somewhere out there." he continued grimly, "..but these are things we can worry about after food and rest. Come to my home in Riverwood, and I will make sure you are healed and fed and that your aid to me and Ulfric are known to everyone in my village."

Sowilu's heart sank, but she was too exhausted to think anymore. She rose clumsily to her feet and followed Ralof down the hillside.


End file.
